


The Writing's on the Wall

by shadowsamurai



Category: Waking the Dead (TV)
Genre: Challenge Response, F/M, Gen, Humor, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-03
Updated: 2012-07-03
Packaged: 2017-11-09 03:02:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/450532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadowsamurai/pseuds/shadowsamurai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Reponse to a FB challenge between myeslf and friends. The requirements - it's called "The Writing on the Wall" and it's 1000 words max, otherwise anything goes. Based on the scene where Boyd and Mel are in the ladies bathroom, with Boyd's exact quote being: "Who wrote that stuff about me on the walls?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Writing's on the Wall

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers for Spoilers: Season 4, 'The Hardest Word.'

Disclaimer: I don't own anything, I'm just borrowing things for a while and I promise I'll put everything back exactly how I found it when I've finished. Well, almost exactly how I found it. ;)

WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD

He knows he should just forget about it, but he can't. He is, after all, a detective. It's in his nature to seek answers, and right now, that's what he wants. He wants to know who was responsible for...*it*. It's stupid, and he shouldn't let it bother him. He really should forget all about it. But...he...*can't.* Giving up is simply not in his nature.

She knows that well, just as she knows he will eventually come to her. It's as natural as a rainbow after the rain, though the comparison is probably not the best one to use. He is more like the impending thunderstorm, dangerously awaited and gratefully received, a thrill most addictive, though whether that's a good thing or not, she isn't sure. Not that it matters now. No, it doesn't matter at all. Because he knows.

He saw the writing on the wall, and now there is no more chance of hiding. She wishes it was different; after all, the idea of writing it there in the first place was that he would never find out. So much for 'never'. It was, of course, a shock to everyone that he was in the ladies' toilets; work or not, it was still on this side of disturbing.

And he knows that too, knows he'll never live it down, being caught in the ladies' toilets. Just his luck. He is, of course, intrigued by the fact that he was mentioned in not one, but two 'posts' on the wall in that cubicle. He is both curious and apprehensive to see what information the other cubicles might hold, but not enough to actually go and investigate. His dedication to his job does actually have a limit, despite what people think. And while both pieces of scrawl interested him, only one of them he has deemed important.

And she knows what's written there, of course; she is, after all, the author of one. And she's pretty certain she knows who wrote the other. The undertone of humour is self-evident, she thinks, and a huge clue as to who is behind it, even for someone like him. Others may not believe it, but he is not stupid. And while it's possible he might go and see that person instead, somehow she doesn't think so. In fact, she finds herself hoping he visits her. She wants it to happen like that. She wants *him*.

And what she doesn't know is that he feels the same way. Before it didn't matter; he didn't she felt that way, and she didn't know he felt the same way too. But now it's changed. One of them knows, knows what he knows and what she knows, and he's starting to think it's time for a change. Because as he's sat there and thought and analysed, he's realised who wrote what on the wall. Knows she wrote that, and someone else wrote the other, more childish remark. Although technically, her comment, such as it was, was just as immature, but he likes it.

And so, when he walks through the door, she isn't surprised, more anxious than anything, but she tries not to show it. She's had a lot of practice at hiding her true feeling, especially where he's concerned.

"Hi, Boyd," she says, nonchalantly, making some show of looking up from the work she wasn't doing.

He doesn't reply, just stands just inside the doorway and folds his arms. "The writing on the cubicle in the ladies' toilet," he replies eventually.

She has the good grace to look a little sheepish. "Ah. About that..."

"Defacing Met property." He shakes his head.

She rolls her eyes. "Come on, Boyd, are you seriously going to lecture me on graffiti?"

He tries to look stern but she can see the twinkle in his eyes. "It wouldn't do any good," he says, starting to walk towards her. No, scratch that; he's *stalking* towards her, and she shivers. "Besides, I think I'd rather bollock the other graffiti artist."

She pulls a face. "I don't know anything about that."

He doesn't believe her and his expression clearly shows that. "Of course you do. Don't worry, I know what spirit it was meant in."

"Are you sure?"

He shrugs. "If Grace really wanted to piss me off, she'd do it in person, not by writing 'Boyd is a prick' on the toilet cubicle."

She smiles. "Good point."

"You, on the other hand..."

"Look, it was just..."

He holds his hand up, his dark eyes burning. "Don't lie to me, Frankie. Don't say 'it was just something stupid' when we both know that's not the case."

"Boyd..."

He's right in front of her now, right in her personal space without a second thought, looking down on her. "Don't lie to me."

She sighs, then takes in his expression properly and swallows. It's a now or never, do or die situation. She's hates them. Time for the plunge... "Alright. I meant it. I think you're sexy."

"And the heart with an arrow through it?" he asks.

She shrugs. In for a penny, in for a pound. "Me as well."

"Good."

And then he kisses her. Nothing fancy, but also not as...rough as she might have expected. Hint of tenderness, promise of so much more. When they break apart, she grins goofily. "Does that mean I'm off the hook for defacing Met property?" she asks mischievously.

His replying grin is a touch feral. "Oh, Dr Wharton, I haven't even *started* with your punishment yet."

FIN


End file.
